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Seriously.

Harper frowned. Um, she so couldn't say that.

And she hated herself for it. Not being able to dig up the guts to tell Wren, afraid that she'd be mad at her, was ridiculous. But the longer Harper kept quiet the angrier Wren would most likely be. Harper was caught in a vicious cycle that was going nowhere. And she hated it.

“Hey! We need drinks!” Wren leaned over the counter, her hand in the air as she tried to get the bartender's attention. He was too busy flirting with another group of women standing on the opposite end of the bar. All three of them wore teeny bikini tops barely covering their goods so they definitely had the advantage.

Already bored, Harper pulled her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans to check if she had a message. Maybe West had texted her to let her know he was coming home? But there was nothing. Of course.

Sighing, she slipped her phone back into her pocket, just as Delilah slid in between her and Wren, a stern look on her face.

“Listen, don't look so down in the dumps, wishing you were with your man,” Delilah said, glancing over her shoulder at Wren to make sure she wasn't paying attention. But she was too busy trying to get the attention of the bartender. “She's going to ask what's up if you keep acting all sad and shit.”

“I need to just tell her. She's going to find out eventually. I feel terrible that I'm keeping this from her,” Harper said. “I don't like feeling like I'm lying to her.” Feeling like she was lying, that was a good one. There was no
feeling
about it.

She was totally lying.

“Whatever you do, don't confess your sins with her brother tonight. The last thing I want is for you two to get into a fight. We're supposed to be having fun.” Delilah grabbed Harper's shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Come on, live a little. At least your man is giving it to you.”

“Your man? You have a man, Harper?”

Harper went still when she heard Wren's voice. Delilah sent her a look, then turned, the both of them facing Wren like a united front. People crowded the bar, pushing into them, and the song blasting over the speakers switched to an upbeat country song, making everyone around them cheer in approval.

“Who's your secret lover?” Wren asked, one delicate brow arched as she stared at Harper.

Nerves ate at Harper's insides and she looked for guidance to Delilah, who was clearly sending her the
keep your mouth shut
message with her eyes.

But Harper . . . she couldn't do it. She had to confess. Get it off her chest.

“I'm seeing West,” she said quietly, her voice so low she almost hoped Wren wouldn't hear her. Though of course, she did, even with the loud music playing.

“Wait a minute. You're seeing my
brother
West?” Wren looked from Harper to Delilah, her expression downright horrified as she pointed at Delilah. “And
you
knew before
I
did?”

“That's because she's crushing on Lane, but he won't do anything about it,” Harper blurted, like she couldn't control herself. She slapped her hand over her mouth the moment she said it just as Delilah sent her a glare that could've silenced ten squirmy little ballet students on a Tuesday afternoon.

Clearly, that glare couldn't silence Harper though.

“Lane? Are you serious, Delilah?” Wren's eyes looked like they were going to bug out of her head.

“Nothing's happening between Lane and me,” Delilah said in a rush, stepping toward Wren. But Wren dodged her when Delilah tried to touch her arm. “I'm serious. I had a crush on him, but it's pointless. He'll never see me as anything but a friend.”

“But you want more?” Wren turned on Harper. “And you do too? With West? How could you not tell me?” Her eyes blazed with anger.

And hurt. So much hurt. Harper's heart cracked, knowing she was the one who'd done that to Wren. Her best friend since they were little kids. They never kept secrets from each other. Ever.

“We didn't know how, Wren,” Harper said. Delilah snorted, but Harper ignored her. “I'm not even sure if this is going to last, you know? West isn't, um, big on commitment.”

“That's a total understatement,” Wren said bitterly, shaking her head. “Did you leave Roger for my flaky brother? Because if that's the case, you're an idiot. You had a nice, stable relationship with a good guy, and you break it off for a chance with West. Unbelievable. Not that I should be too surprised. You've had a thing for him since we were kids.”

“I didn't break up with Roger for West. That happened on its own.”

“So, what? You and West are
dating
now?” Wren actually laughed. “Let's see how long that lasts. He doesn't do long term. Delilah knows this firsthand.”

That last remark stung. Harper knew Wren was mad and was just trying to make her feel bad, but still.

“And if you really think you have a chance with Lane, Dee, then you can forget it. That guy is cold. He doesn't care about anything but work,” Wren practically spit out, scowling. “The only one with any heart is Holden, and he's already taken. Or are you going to chase after him too? Try your chance at all the Gallagher brothers, Dee?”

“Come on, Wren. That was a low blow,” Harper started, shocked her friend would say such a thing.

Delilah stepped close to Wren, poking her in the chest with her index finger. “This is exactly why we didn't tell you. We knew you would be a total jerk about it. You've always been jealous of the attention your brothers get. You couldn't stand the thought of your friends wanting to be with them.”

“That's not true,” Wren said, but Delilah wasn't listening.

“I'm leaving. You coming with me, Harper?” They'd ridden together in Delilah's car and met Wren at the restaurant.

Harper met Wren's gaze. “I wish you'd understand. I really . . . care for your brother,” she said.

“If you cared about me, you would've told me you liked him in the first place.” Wren folded her arms in front of her.

“Right. And you would've told me not to waste my time.” Harper had heard it all before. Wren had never encouraged her interest in West. Back in the day she'd hated that Delilah and West went out, even for a short time. She hadn't wanted her brother to sabotage her friendships all for a fleeting romantic entanglement.

“That's because it is a waste of time when it comes to West,” Wren argued. “Lane too. But who am I to stand in the path of true love? Oh, I know, I'm your
best friend
.”

“What is this? High school? Enough with the guilt trips. Come on, Harper.” Delilah grabbed hold of her arm and practically dragged her out of the bar area, stopping when they got to the top of the stairs. “Why did you tell her when I asked you not to? I knew she'd freak out and act like a total bitch.”

“Delilah, don't call her that. She's just upset,” Harper chastised.

“She's upset because you opened your big mouth,” Delilah muttered, her gaze going back to Wren. “She should just come home with us.”

“She's too mad.”

“I'm sort of mad at her, too, and I'm mad at you. Way to ruin our night out.” Delilah shook her head.

Harper refused to feel bad. The guilt had been tearing her up inside. At least it was all out in the open. The worst part was over.

“Let's go,” Delilah said.

Harper frowned, sniffing the air. “Is that smoke? Do you smell it?”

Delilah waved a hand, her expression irritated. “Probably someone smoking out on the deck.”

Harper wrinkled her nose as she looked around the crowded room, but everyone seemed to be carrying on like no big deal. She knew she smelled smoke. Or was she imagining it? “It doesn't smell like cigarettes to me.”

“Then it's probably something else. Don't worry about it, let's get out of here,” Delilah grumbled as she started to go down the stairs. Harper glanced over her shoulder toward the bar area and found Wren watching her, her expression somber. She wanted to go back to her. Wanted to ask her to forgive, to understand, to say she was sorry, but she couldn't do it. Not now. Not yet.

Harper knew Wren wasn't ready to listen.

A continuous beeping sound started, sharp and piercing, making Harper immediately cover her ears. The music abruptly shut off and everyone seemed to stop talking all at once, looking at each other in confusion. That's when Harper saw it. A cloud of smoke filling the room, dark gray and thick. Someone began yelling at the top of the person's lungs.

“Fire! Run!”

“Wren!” Harper yelled, squealing when she felt someone grab hold of her arm and start to pull her down the stairs. “No, Delilah, we can't leave her!”

“We have to go!” Delilah screamed.

It was a crush of people, everyone rushing for the stairs all at once as the smoke grew thicker, making Harper cough. She took a deep breath, gasping when she felt the sharp burn fill her lungs. Someone stepped on her toes and she yelped, her left sandal slipping off her foot as she tripped down the stairs.

Delilah let go of her hand amid the people shoving and pushing around them in their haste to get down the stairs and out of the building. Harper looked behind her, hoping to spot Wren, but she couldn't find her in the crowd. And she couldn't see Delilah anymore either.

Surrounded by so many strangers as she stumbled down the stairs, her friends nowhere in sight, she'd never felt so alone.

“I'
VE NEVER HEARD
of this restaurant before,” West said as he drove the engine down the twisty road that ran along the east side of Wildwood Lake. The sun was setting, casting a strange orange glow across the calm lake. There weren't any people hanging out along the shore, and no boats speeding across the water. The lake was almost eerily calm.

“It used to be called something else. Duke's maybe? Or Luke's?” Tori told him from the passenger seat. The rest of the firefighters were in the back cab. The coveted passenger seat was on a rotating schedule, Tori being the lucky one up tonight. Everyone fought over that damn passenger seat, which West found amusing. He'd done the same thing himself at the other stations he'd worked at.

“Ah, Duke's. I remember that place.” It had always been too fancy for his family's blood. It was more of a tourist location, or where the kids would take their prom dates for dinner, though he'd never taken his there. Couldn't afford it. And after a while, he hadn't really cared.

“Yeah, well the building was sold and the new owners renovated the place over the winter,” Tori yelled over the siren, which he'd just flicked on. They were driving through a more populated area and he wanted to offer up a warning that they were coming through. Sometimes the flashing lights weren't enough.

Not that they encountered much traffic. He could see the flume of smoke in the air up ahead, thick and black, indicating that a structure was burning, though it didn't look as intense as it had only a few minutes ago. He knew there was another engine already on scene and a couple of sheriff's deputies were there as well for crowd control.

He pressed the accelerator a little more firmly with his booted foot, eager to arrive. He didn't know much beyond that the top floor of the building, where the bar was, was on fire. He hoped like hell there weren't too many people inside and that they'd all gotten out safely, but it was high tourist season. Meaning big crowds flocked to the lakeside, renting cabins, camping, or holing up in the more expensive boutique hotels.

The town was overrun with tourists all summer long, right through the fall and until the first snow fell. Hell, even then businesses tried to appeal to visitors by turning Wildwood into a Christmas village. Wildwood lived and died by the tourist industry. If a brand-new restaurant burnt to the ground, that could hurt the town in the long run, though really the tourists would just find somewhere else to hang out.

West pulled the engine into the large parking lot of the restaurant—now called Wildwood BBQ & Bar, so original—shutting off the siren as he pulled up to the front, as close to the building as he could get, squeezing the engine in between an ambulance and a deputy car already parked there. His crew jumped out and started pulling off the hose while West went over to the other captain. He knew the guy's last name was Jefferson because that's all anyone ever called him.

“What's going on?” he asked.

“We have most of it under control,” Jefferson said, his voice grim as he stared up at the building. “Your brother's here. Said there might be a few people still unaccounted for. He's checking right now.”

“Shit.” West rubbed his hand along his jaw, checking out the building as well. The restaurant was large, one of the closest to the lake, and currently the grassy area that surrounded the building was filled with people, the evacuated restaurant patrons most likely. The fire had been put out, but thin dark smoke still billowed out from the top floor's broken windows, the wood siding was black in spots, and the roof had mostly caved in. The bottom story appeared in relatively good shape, but water and smoke damage could make those extensive renovations pretty much obsolete.

“We need rescue. Stat. People are still inside.” A familiar voice came from behind West and he whirled around to find Lane striding toward him, looking so upset West knew that whatever he was about to tell him was bad.

Real bad.

But he didn't give his brother a chance to explain. “We're going inside,” he called to his crew as he started toward the front door without hesitation. Lane jogged along beside him, and West's crew fell into step behind them. His radio crackled at his hip but he ignored it, determination and fear making his heart race.

“Listen to me.” Lane grabbed his arm, halting him at the top of the steps leading to the restaurant entry. His crew stopped just behind him, confusion on their faces as they waited. “They can't find Harper. They've looked everywhere, but she's nowhere to be found.” Lane's words almost slurred he said them so fast.

West's heart felt like it shattered into a thousand tiny little pieces. “What do you mean they can't find Harper? Why was she here?” His heartbeat roared in his ears as he tried to focus on what Lane was saying. Something about Lane coming upon Wren outside and her panicking, crying that she hadn't seen Harper and she could still be in there. She hadn't seen Delilah either. He was thankful that Wren was okay. But . . .

“Wait a minute, Delilah
and
Harper could still be inside?” West didn't even hesitate. He barged through the front doors, Lane yelling at him to stop, commanding West's crew not to go inside.

His crew might've come to a halt, but West wouldn't listen, not that he was thinking much. No way could he stop. Harper was in there. He had to find her. What if she was trapped upstairs? God, what if she was hurt? Unconscious? Stuck in a smoke-filled room unable to breathe . . .

West shook the horrific thoughts out of his mind. He couldn't think like that. It would fuck him up royally when he needed to focus.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he paused, trying to assess the situation despite the panic clawing at his insides. Glancing around, he saw that the lower level looked pretty normal, with the exception of extensive smudges of black smoke on the white walls and the tables and chairs dripping with water. He scanned the room for the stairs, finding them tucked to the right side of the hostess station. West started up them just as Lane finally grabbed hold of his arm and stopped him.

“You can't go up there.” Lane jerked him closer, gripping him tight. “I won't let you put your life at risk, damn it. The floor is damaged. If you can even manage to get your ass up there, you could fall right through.”

“Fuck you,” West said through clenched teeth. “I need to find her.” He tried to pull out of Lane's grip, but it was no use. His fingers were clamped tight like a vise. “Let me go, asshole.”

“No. She's not up there. No one's up there.” Lane shook him, his expression determined, eyes serious. “Trust me. They're not inside.”

“Then I need to find them.” West swallowed hard, ignoring the panic racing through his blood. “Now.”

H
ARPER HAD STUMBLED
out of the restaurant, coughing as the smoke surrounded her, blocking her vision. She'd glanced around, grunting when people pushed past her, nearly knocking her to the ground, and she decided to follow them instead of working against them. She was missing one sandal and her bare foot hurt from when someone had stepped on her toes earlier.

But none of that mattered. She was out of the burning restaurant.

She was alive.

But she still couldn't find Delilah and Wren, had been wandering around for what felt like hours looking for them. She sniffed, realizing that she'd been crying, and she wiped at her eyes, brushed the tears off her cheeks. Now was not the time to fall apart like a baby. She needed to find her friends and make sure they were safe. Then they needed to get the hell out of here.

Panic filling her, she told herself to remain calm as she jogged around the side of the building, the grass soft and damp against her bare foot. People were everywhere, all of them scared, talking loudly, many of them crying. She heard the wail of sirens, the sound piercing and never seeming to let up. Clapping her hands over her ears, she stopped and glanced around, watching in quiet awe as a group of firefighters stood in a line and aimed a giant hose at one of the upper windows, the hard spray of water putting out the lingering flames. She wondered if West was here. He had to be. But where was he?

And no way could her friends still be up there . . . could they?

Deciding she was wasting time, she started running again, her gaze everywhere as she looked for Wren and Delilah. So many people milled about, the panic so thick she could practically see it. She coughed, the smoke still aggravating her lungs, and she stopped to rest, bending over to place her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath.

“Harper! Oh my God, there you are!”

She turned to find Delilah running toward her, her phone clutched in her hand. Her hair was a wreck, her face dirty, and her shirt was torn at the hem, but Harper had never seen a more beautiful sight.

“I was trying to call you,” Delilah said as she yanked Harper into her arms and hugged her so tight she was afraid Delilah would crush a few bones. “I was so scared,” she mumbled against her hair.

“Where's Wren? Have you seen her?” Harper asked, clutching Delilah close. The relief that flooded Harper made her bones wobbly. She was so glad to have found her friend.

Delilah pulled away, shaking her head. She grabbed hold of Harper's hand and started leading her back toward the building. “We need to go look for her. What if she's still inside?”

Harper glanced at the still-smoldering building. Worry made her stomach cramp, but she needed to stay calm. Wren was fine. She had to be. “We should stay here and watch for her.” It killed her to say that, but she knew it was the right thing. They needed to stay in one place. If they started looking, they might miss their friend. “Did you try calling her?”

“Yes, but she didn't answer.” Delilah's lower lip started to tremble and her eyes filled with tears. “She was so pissed at us and I was just as mad. Now I can't freaking find her. This is—” Delilah took a stuttering breath. “Not the way I wanted our last moments to be.”

“Delilah, stop talking like that! She's fine.” She couldn't let Delilah think along those lines. They needed to stay positive. She took in the fire engines and patrol cars in the parking lot, her heart easing just knowing who could possibly be nearby. “Have you seen Lane or West yet?”

“No.” Delilah sniffed, tears sliding down her dirty cheeks and leaving visible tracks. “You're the first person I've found.” She hauled Harper back into her arms, holding her close, and Harper let her.

“We'll be fine. We'll find her. Everything's going to be fine.” She smoothed her hand over Delilah's hair, trying to soothe her.

Hoping like crazy that she was speaking the truth.

“C
OME ON, MAN
. We'll find them. There's a large group of people out back by the dock. Maybe the girls are with them,” Lane suggested, turning West around and leading him out of the building.

Misery settled low in his gut as he tried to put on a brave face and ordered his crew to start mopping up. All he could think about was Harper. What if the girls weren't there? Christ, he hadn't seen Harper in days. Hadn't held her, kissed her . . .

Regret slammed into him like a fist, making his stomach twist and churn. His job kept him away most of the time and he didn't mind. He usually preferred it because if he was working, at least he was doing something and getting paid. But now, thinking of Harper, how she could be hurt and he hadn't seen her in so long . . .

Fuck, he didn't know what he'd do if something had happened to her. He'd never forgive himself.

Without a word, they went outside and around to the back of the building, heading down toward the dock. Lane remained silent, and West was damn thankful.

He had to find Harper, see her with his own eyes, hold her in his arms. Once he found her, would he be able to let her go?

No.

The overwhelming realization didn't even faze him.

“Where's Wren?” he finally asked Lane as they drew closer to the dock.

“With Holden. He's on the other engine. You didn't see him?” Lane glanced in his direction.

West shook his head, increasing his pace. “How can you be so damn calm?” He felt like his nerves were doing a jig in his veins. His entire body was shaking, though he was doing his damnedest to appear otherwise.

“I'm just trying to do my job,” Lane said quietly, his gaze everywhere as he took in all the people standing in small groups, huddled against each other as the temperature dropped along with the sun. Crickets chirped. The water lapped against the shore. Just another early summer night in Wildwood with the acrid scent of smoke in the air and the quiet sobs of panicked people whose lives had just flashed before their eyes.

Yeah. West wasn't usually prone to dramatics, but he was feeling pretty melodramatic at this particular moment. If he didn't find Harper soon . . .

“Lane!” The familiar sound of Delilah's voice had them both turning. There she was. Her dark hair was a wild tangle about her head, her face was smudged and her eyes were red and watery, but otherwise she was alive. “Oh my God!”

Delilah ran toward them but Lane was faster. He met her halfway and gathered Delilah into his arms, his mouth at her temple as he crushed her against him.

West felt a smidgen of relief, but it wasn't nearly enough. Where the hell was Harper?

“You're here.”

West whirled around, his heart dropping to somewhere in the vicinity of his toes when he found Harper standing in front of him. Her white shirt was streaked and dirty and there was a bloody, angry scratch on her forehead, but otherwise she looked good.

She looked
alive
.

“I'm here,” he croaked just before he pulled her into his arms and held her as close as he could get her. He tangled his fingers in her soft hair, pressing her face against his chest as he closed his eyes and breathed deep, saying a little prayer of thanks that he'd found her safe and sound. He wasn't a religious person, not by a long shot, but he was so grateful he couldn't help it. “God, Harper, it just about destroyed me when Lane said they couldn't find you.”